The Lord of the Rings: The Fifth Age
by TEG
Summary: As the Fourth Age bears an end, new technological advances aid a revolutionary war across Middle-Earth. Family feuds flare and heroes are forced to arise.


The Lord of the Rings:

The Fifth Age

Prologue

As the Forth age bears an end in 4998, new technology is changing the world. Uncovered secrets of the once Saruman the wise had been dug up and revolutionized. After finding the secret of how fire destroyed rock on the Deeping wall, a young philosopher of the Dwarves had created a weapon more devastating than any weapon. In Southern Gondor the Corsairs of Umbar continued an ongoing attack on the jewel Osgiliath. They, as well as most nations of Middle-Earth have revealed the secrets to gunpowder, following the deceased; Darwin of the Glittering Caves, works. The Elves of Mirkwood, all that remained, were against this weapon. But men and dwarves had no resistance to the weapons, rejoicing, and training their armies with the weapons. After awhile, men want power… After Rohan declared war upon Gondor, the elves of Mirkwood turned against them both. In Mirkwood, Rohan, Gondor, and even Essäroth, a hero was born. They must experience the bitterness of a revolutionary war, before they could bring Middle-Earth back into an Age of peace.

Chapter One: Canterbury of Gondor, Palärgir's beloved

In Southern Gondor, in Lebennin, was a Captain. He was one to meet in battle, and was a direct descendent of Boromir son of Denethor II. He had recently been given a task, lead Gondor into Western Rohan. He planned to execute his commands by traveling West through the Väle of Erech and into Druwäith Iaur. One of Aragorn's decedents, his grandson's daughter; Amälia, married the descendent of Faramir and Eowyn, their grandson's son, Barwëon; Breeding another half elf and tying lines of Gondor and Rohan ancestry. This is the King of Gondor. Barwëon was a man of many motives, taking his ancestors land of Rohan being one of them. Canterbury is currently traveling though Northern Änfäläs:

Canterbury leads his soldiers, three-thousand at maximum at head. He was hoisted above his steed, Brego, named after his lord's ancestor's horse from the Late Third age. The land was green and fruitful, and the sun accentuated his silver armor. The Armor of Gondor had changed since the 3rd age. It had become lighter, allowing the raising of the Änsaräst Rifle. The Helms reserved their traditional faceplate, while the Wings and Horn of Gondor resemblances aimed behind the wearer's ears. It aims for a sharp looking helm. The Greaves were Mostly of silver Leather, with a knee and thigh plate. The Boots Rode up to the knee, and the shoulder guards went only to mid shoulder. As the army marched through their land, the clatter of rock, soil, and metal could be heard singing, blotting out the songs of the birds. Animals scattered the way for the seeds of the white tree, which still blossomed.

A day went by without rest, food, or water, leading out of Änfäläs. Travelers would be seen wandering the wild every twenty klicks or so. Finally, with one day left to reach the border of West Rohan, rest was taken. For in the morning, the march would continue.

Canterbury emerged from his tent and planned to gather round the fire with his friends.

"Hello Canter'bury, ow's your night been?" Cirion asked. Cirion was once a tower guard of the White tree and of the King's himself.

"It hasn't been much, but the feral deer was a mighty meal." Canterbury smiled. They all begun to laugh, but tomorrow, their laughter would be cut into a choke or sob. The Moon shone down on the camp as if the Numenoreans were gazing from the heavens themselves.

For the rest of the night they stood, quite, still, and anxious.

"Rise up! Rise! We march!" Canterbury commanded. He mounted his horse and Rode to the edge of his soldiery. He continued to pace his horse whilst those behind him marched, again, for Gondor. The Border between the once great allies was inseparable; you couldn't tell the difference until the yellow grassed West Rohan gradually emerged. As their leader cantered further into Rohan, men in pale tan and red mail could be seen on the horizon.

"How did they know of the impending attack? How many were there? I will have victory!" Canterbury thought. The Red Coats Lined up, as a single man on a horse rode from one end of the line to a further end.

"Men, form up!" Canterbury commanded. He was still astonished at what he was gazing upon. Within half a mile apart, the two armies stood and gazed. Canterbury and the horsemen leader rode into the center of the battlefield.

"Captain Canterbury, I should have known…" the man on the brown horse sneered.

"Your land belongs to Barwëon by inheritance. We have come to claim his honor seeing how the last of his extended family no longer lingers in Edoräs." Canterbury stated. His face taunted the other man in every way, stone face, with a serious tone.

"Well, you cannot have what you lust for while there are men left who will fight.

The other man rode off yelling two words Canterbury never heard of.

"Bayonets, Rhohirric bonsai!" He yelled. At once, the first five lines of his force began to meddle with their Rhohirric yew Rifles. They looked up, "Charge!" the man commandeered. Line by line, his army charged down the small hill. "Deeeaaattthhhhh!" they screamed. The warriors of Gondor were at a slight disadvantage. The sun blazed into Canterbury's and his army's eyes. "Impossible" he thought. "Aim!," he started. The men of Rohan closing in. "-Fire!". The men of Gondor fired into the heroic charge of those he hated. After one line fired, they retreated back behind a line, which had reloaded and was ready to fire again. Men of Rohan fell wave by wave. The rest of the Rohirrim started to march down the hill. They pulled up two enormous cannons, after a few moments they fired them. Molted rock fired blowing Gondorians into eternity. They flew into different directions, even landing on one another.

Finally the Charge pressed into the line of men. "Blades" Canterbury commanded. Every man of Gondor upon the battlefield within ears reach of the order unsheathed his blades. With a motion of turning around, Canterbury lead the charge. He flew down the field slashing men left and right. His adrenaline was pumped, the enemy seemed to be getting slower as he picked up momentum. At that moment and peak of his surprise, a cannon ball burst into tears at the base of his companion throwing him into a Rohirrim soldier quicker than his own heart could beat. Without a moments glance he rose with a cutlass and flintlock pistol. He gathered his mind and then charged back up the hill.

Two men came upon him, one with a rifle the other with his bayonet. He stabbed the man with a bayonet causing him to stumble into himself, the man wielding the rifle shot his ally. As he stopped to reload, Canterbury blew his brains out with one shot to the forehead of his flintlock pistol. The Gondorians were gaining ground; the Rohirrim retreated from their cannons in fear of being sliced.

"Commandeer their weapons against them!" Canterbury ordered seizing the opportunity. A man of the opponent's side charged up and challenged Canterbury; a spar to the death.

Canterbury's cutlass was beyond faster than the man's bayoneted rifle. The man gorged for his face, Canterbury ducked and slashes his left leg off if not for the smallest strand. Blood squirted upon Canterbury's stainless steel and his face. With one last hope, they charged down the hill towards Gondorians, proven unsuccessful. The Rohirrim fought until the last man, and as a coward, their leader retreated.

The Gondorians cheered, through the unenclosed valley. It could be heard miles away. Only eight-hundred men were lost in the quelling of the resistance. Canterbury continued his campaign, gaining what was rightfully, his king's.


End file.
